


Spenser is Missing

by QXZ



Category: Spenser Series - Robert B. Parker
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Missing in Action, Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QXZ/pseuds/QXZ
Summary: Boston's top sleuth has disappeared while on a case out of town.  When no one on the right side of the law can help her, Susan Silverman turns to the one man she knows will stop at nothing to find her lover and bring him back to her, alive or dead.  And if it's the latter, she knows Hawk will make whoever is responsible wish they were never born.





	Spenser is Missing

**SPENSER**

**IS**

**MISSING**

**_A Hawk Adventure_ **

_Stellen Qxz_

Copyright **©** 2020 by Stellen Qxz

3rd Man Publications

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or institutions or events, is entirely coincidental. (And you just try to prove otherwise!)

** ChanWell Series **

_Principal Target_

_Cloak & Stagger_

_Extreme Prejudice_

_ChanWell_

_Hired Guns_

** Birmingham ** ** ’s Best Bodyguard Series **

_Compulsive_

_Criminal_

_Inactive?_

_Vicious_

_Deadline_

_Extraction_

_Purity_

_Reciprocity_

_Blackball_

_Retrograde_

_Fearless_

_Rogue_

_The Undercover Groomsman_

_Glock Smoke: A Derrick Olin Anthology_

_Traffic(k)_

_Faithful_

_Dangerous Liaison_

_Mercenary_

_Witness_

_The Asset_

_Lethal **[a]**_

_Critical Action **[b]**_

** Danny Monk Series[c] **

_ABI Monk_

** Hawk Series **

_Blood Debts_

** CIA Series[d] **

_PUSHBACK_

_The Blown Whistle_

About the author: Since the age of 13 Stellen has written hundreds of short stories, novelettes, novellas, and novels. He is an avid reader of fiction and when not writing he works as a private security consultant.

<https://payhip.com/StellenQxz>

Robert B. Parker, the inspiration and the master.

#  _Chapter 1_

Hawk was having dinner with a prospective employer when he got the call from Susan Silverman. Although she tried to keep herself contained, the fear in her voice was evident to Hawk’s familiar ear and he told her he would be with her shortly, ending the call and standing.

“We talk later,” he said to the stunned prospective employer, turning and leaving one of Boston’s most exclusive restaurants without another word, or, most notably, an apology. But the man left behind was not offended by that. Hawk’s reputation was known far and wide, and did not include the public niceties that so many thought of as pro forma.

Twenty minutes later, Hawk’s sleek black jag was rolling into the driveway of an elegant corner house in Cambridge. It was just after eight and the sun had long since set, the neighborhood well illuminated by artificial lighting throughout.

Hawk released his seatbelt, opened the driver’s door, and rolled out of the car in one effortless move, rising to his full height of six feet, three inches, adjusting the jacket of his exquisitely tailored fawn colored suit. Even though it was dark, Hawk wore even darker shades that hid his eyes. Still, he could see everything.

Susan greeted him at the door and he could see she had been crying. She let him in, closed the door behind him, then collapsed against it. Hawk caught her and took her in his strong arms, holding her against his chest for a few moments before walking her into the living room to sit down on the antique sofa that she and Spenser bought last fall up in New Hampshire.

She told him the story and he listened without interruption, or any outward signs of emotions. Probably no inward signs either because that was not Hawk’s way. He had removed his shades a his eyes had the same calm, somewhat cold, expression as always, and somehow this gave Susan some comfort as she talked, holding onto his hand to steady herself as she did so.

It did not take long, and when she finished, Hawk sat quietly looking at her, his mind absorbing and analyzing the details before he spoke.

“When Tedy Sapp take over Security South?” he said.

“I don’t know,” Susan said. “Spenser was unaware of it either before he got the call a few weeks back. Apparently he as been their Chief Operating Officer for some years now.”

Hawk nodded.

“So he call Spenser about a missing person from down Georgia way came up here a month ago then disappeared without a trace, and ole’ Tedy want Spenser to find him for a client down there?”

Susan nodded, sniffled.

Hawk squeezed her hand.

“Yes,” she said. “And then Spenser started looking, doing what he usually does.”

“You mean annoying people till they either tell him something he want to know or else try to kill him.”

Susan nodded, smiled a little, then wiped at her eyes.

“About the size of it,” she said. “I know he went to Frank Belson to see if there had been any reports of bodies turning up anywhere that matched the missing young man’s description. Nothing there, and then he followed up on some other clues.”

“Then he find something that take him out of town,” Hawk said.

“Yes,” Susan said. “But I’m not sure what. I had to go to New York for a few days in the week before he left. I was really busy and we didn’t get to talk much. I’m not too sure what he learned during his sleuthing. I got back one day before he left. Told me he would only be gone a few days, then it stretched into a week. We spoke a couple of times on the phone and he didn’t seem worried, but when does he ever?”

“And then you stopped hearing from him?” Hawk said.

Another sniffle, and she nodded.

“Yes, and that’s not like Spenser, you know that, Hawk. He calls me no matter what he’s doing or where he is. At first I tried not to worry when I couldn’t get him on his cell. I left messages after it clicked over to voicemail after the fourth ring, but he never got back to me. And then it started going straight to voicemail without ringing at all. I left messages at his hotel, too, and got nothing there either. That’s when I got really worried and called Marty Quirk.”

“And what Quirk say?”

“That he hadn’t heard from Spenser either, and neither had Frank or Lee Farrell. Not since he left town. Said he’d check with Healy at the state police, found out Spenser had spoken with him before he left, but not since. I think Marty’s really worried now, too. He said he was going to make some calls to local law enforcement down in West Virginia, try to pick up Spenser’s trail. So far he hasn’t gotten back to me and I’m scared, Hawk, really scared. I know the kind of life Spenser leads, the danger of his work, and I know how tough he is. But despite that, even if he doesn’t admit it, he is human.”

She broke off and could not hold back the tears any longer. Hawk held her close while she sobbed into his very expensive tailored dress shirt, his mind still turning over the details. After a while Susan sniffled, but did not move her head, and when she spoke her voice was a small hoarse whisper, but Hawk could clearly understand her.

“I want you to find him, Hawk. I want you to find him and bring him back to me, please!”

Hawk sat silently for several moments, holding onto one of the handful of people in this world that he truly cared about as she broke down completely, still thinking.

Finally Boston’s top enforcer nodded and said in his normal voice, “Don’t worry, Lady Susan, he out there, I find him!”

#  _Chapter 2_

About fifteen years ago Spenser was on a job down in Georgia[v] and he met an ex-cop named Tedy Sapp who was then working as security manager for a tavern that catered to the _queer_ scene and that had had more than its fair share of problems because of it. Although he was built like a battleship, Sapp was happily gay, in love with the man of his dreams, and didn’t give a damn what anybody else thought about his life choices. He quit the cops to take the security job because he figured it was the best way to keep people safe who were like him but weren’t tough like him, people rednecks saw as easy targets. With Sapp around, the rednecks quickly learned to stay away. After several hospital and dental visits.

He and Spenser hit it off and stayed in touch after the case was done. A year later when a job came up out in Arizona[vi] and Spenser needed some extra muscle, in addition to Hawk, Tedy Sapp was one of the people he recruited.

Over the years they’ve maintained contact off and on, mostly business, but it had been a few years since they had last spoken when Sapp called out of the blue and asked him to look for a missing person in Boston. That’s when Spenser found out that _the tough fag from Georgia_ (Hawk’s term of endearment for Sapp) was now a very respectable businessman in Atlanta, running operations for a company that had at one time been the laughingstock of the security industry, Security South. At one point Spenser had referred to most of their employees as _Bone Deep Dumb_ , however, under Sapp’s leadership, this reputation and the company had undergone tremendous positive changes. Spenser chuckled when Sapp told him, quipping that this probably meant their checks wouldn’t bounce.

After Hawk talked to Quirk the next morning, he found the number for Security South’s main office in Atlanta and called asking to speak to their COO. The person who answered the call explained that Mr. Sapp was a very busy man and regretted not being able to take every call personally, however, if Hawk would like to leave a message…

The message Hawk gave made the young man on the other end of the line stop breathing for a few seconds before he realized it. And a few seconds later Hawk told him to tell Mr. Sapp that _Hawk_ was calling from Boston. Less than a minute after that, Tedy Sapp was on the line.

“I don’t know what you said to Andre, Hawk, but you really scared the shit out of him,” Sapp said with a deep chuckle. “Seriously, I think he’s gonna have to go home to change his shorts.”

Hawk snorted and then came right to the point.

“I need to know everything you and Spenser talked about.”

A pause, then a sigh.

“Okay, Hawk. Ordinarily I don’t share client information with somebody who isn’t employed by my firm and hasn’t signed a confidentiality agreement, but I understand how important this is. I’m worried about Spenser now, too, he’s been out of touch too long.”

“So tell me,” Hawk repeated.

And Sapp did.

Security South has a client named Brandon Kerry, an industrialist originally from New England but has been in Georgia for the past twenty years. Security South does Kerry’s personal security as well as screening all new employees for his company and have uniformed guards at all his facilities throughout the state. In other words, they make a lot of money off of him.

Kerry has a twenty-six year old son named Kyle who is the light of his life, even if they don’t see eye to eye on much these days. Young Kyle is a very active and outspoken environmentalist and has even participated in protests outside his father’s company offices in Atlanta. However, despite this, Brandon Kerry still adores the boy and sees to it that he has as comfortable a life as he is permitted to.

A little over a month ago Kyle flew to Boston to meet with some local activists to coordinate efforts for a major protest at this year’s upcoming G-7 summit scheduled to take place in Boston. He was reportedly very excited about being selected for this assignment by one of his mentors in his movement in Atlanta. Two days after arriving, Kyle contacted his mentor, a woman by the name of Beverly Shore, and told her that he had stumbled onto something while up in Boston and wanted to check it out more thoroughly before formally involving _Earthforce Lifeforce_. That’s the name of the group that Kyle Kerry works for, Beverly Shore is one of the founders and holds the title of Director of Strategy. Anyway, after a few more days go by Shore still hasn’t heard from the kid, and she starts to worry, gets in touch with the activists he was meeting with up there but they say they haven’t seen or heard from him in days. She then calls the father to see if he’s heard anything. Kerry hasn’t and now he’s worried, too, so he calls his security vendor, Security South, and Tedy Sapp personally becomes involved because Kerry is a top client that they want to keep happy. First calls go to the cops in the Boston area who do a number of things, including looking for unidentified bodies in the morgue that match Kyle’s description, but they get nowhere fast, and since their other active cases are still active and more coming in every day, they don’t have a lot of time to devote to a missing person who might not actually be missing, perhaps just a rich kid hooked up with some girl, or boy, and took off for a while. That’s when Sapp called Spenser.

“Gave him the particulars I just gave you, we talked price—the lug don’t come cheap, by the way—and then he says he’ll look into it and see what he can find and will let me know. Few days after that I get a call back from him saying he talked with the people Kerry met with about the G-7 thing and he gets the feeling they’re hiding something, but he doesn’t know what, so he’s gonna sleuth around and see what he can find out.”

“He call you back after that?” Hawk said.

“Yeah,” Sapp replied. “Week later. Says he’s been following some of the folks in the movement up there. They call themselves _The Green Commandos_. Bet you can guess what their agenda is by that name. Anyway, these are the folks that Kyle was meeting with. Specifically Jan Stewart and Mario Santiago, both listed as _organizers_ for the group, according to Spenser anyway. It was these two that Spenser thought might not be telling all, and after a week of following them around, even _annoying_ them a little, especially Santiago, he was even more convinced. Says Santiago eventually took a swing at him.”

Hawk snorted.

“Bet he regretted that quick.”

“Likely right,” Sapp said. “Anyway, about three days after that conversation, Spenser calls and says he has a lead to follow up on in West Virginia, the Charleston area. Says there is some evidence to suggest Kyle Kerry may have gone there. I approved the trip for expense purposes, but it didn’t matter anyhow, you know how the man operates. He was going anyway.”

“Yeah,” Hawk said. Sapp continued. “And Spenser calls a couple of times from Charleston, says he’s found evidence that Kyle did go to West Virginia, even checked into a hotel in a place called St. Albans a few miles outside of Charleston. Place called the _Rustic Motel_. Spenser says when he talked to some people at the motel they seemed to get really nervous, and the next day a couple of bruisers show up at his hotel in Charleston and suggest that he should back off and go back home to Boston before he gets into trouble.”

Hawk chuckled.

“And when they try to show how serious they are, Spenser pounds on ‘em?”

“That would be my understanding, Hawk,” the man from Security South responded. “And that was the last I heard from Spenser. I talked to Captain Quirk in Boston Homicide, he’s talking to cops in Charleston and surrounding areas. So far there’s nothing, and I don’t like it at all, Hawk.”

“Me neither,” Hawk said. “Let me make sure I got all those names. Start with the folks the Kerry boy came up here to meet with and the name of their organization.”

Sapp gave him everything he asked for, asked what Hawk planned on doing. The line was silent for only a short time, and then the Boston hard man responded.

“Find him, bring him home to Susan.”

Sapp told him if he needed any help, to call him any time around-the-clock, and gave him his personal mobile number.

“Anything, Hawk, anything you need, just ask.”

Hawk ended the call without saying anything further, sat staring at the names and dates on the notepad on the desk in front of him. After a while he glanced at his watch, thought for a few seconds before picking up his smartphone again and dialing a number from memory.

The line rang three times before being picked up and a very sexy chuckle was his greeting.

Hawk smiled.

“Hey…”

#  _Chapter 3_

Rita Fiore is the best criminal litigator in the entirety of the commonwealth, and she knows it, too. Smart, ballsy, and sexier than Mother Theresa was virtuous, Rita knew the ins and outs of the legal world all around Boston and her connections were unmatched by anyone. So it is understandable that Hawk would turn to her when he needed information fast and he didn’t want to involve the cops, just in case some tragedy later befell someone he was inquiring about. With Rita being a top legal eagle, he could claim privilege, kind of.

“Privilege my ass,” Rita snorted. “More likely privilege _to_ my ass.”

“And yes, Lady DA,” Hawk grinned. “That is a mighty privilege to behold.”

Rita cast a smirk down at him, wiggled her hips a little, then continued to scan the contents of the file folder in her hand, adjusting her tortoiseshell reading glasses once as she did so. Hawk had asked her to get him all the background she could on the names Tedy Sapp had given him and on the group called _The Green Commandos_. When she learned this had to do with Spenser being missing, she said she’d have her firm’s chief investigator get right on it and have everything ready for him at the end of the day. She also added that despite her feelings for the big Irish lout who for some reason had always remained immune to her many charms, she would likely need some form of _compensation_ from Hawk for _greasing the wheels_ of justice on is behalf. Hawk told her he’d be more than delighted to _grease_ her wheels whenever it was convenient.

They were at her condo in Beacon Hill late that evening, light snow falling outside, a cozy fire burning in the living room fireplace, and both of them still naked after their joint shower during which time Rita had insisted that Hawk thoroughly _wash_ her back, repeatedly, with very little time (or any) spent on her actual back.

Hawk had brought dinner from an Italian bistro not far away that Rita liked, along with two bottles of Krug champagne. After their shower they ate and drank and discussed what her investigator had come up with, were still doing so now. Naked.

“The kid, Kyle Kerry, is completely clean, no criminal record of any kind, only a couple speeding tickets from years past. His old man is rich, but there’s nothing wrong with rich, unless you steal it, and there is some suggestion that he is rather ruthless in his business dealings, and has made his fair share of enemies over the years. Sued about a dozen times, never lost, but four times he did settle out of court with nondisclosure agreements in place to conceal the terms of the settlements. His company has been investigated by the EPA three times, each time there was no finding of wrongdoing, but he does do a lot of fundraising for politicians in Georgia, which includes the governor and both U.S. senators. His company does do some business with Boston area corporations, but nothing appears to be shady that Matt has found.”

Rita paused, turned to Hawk who was sprawled back on the sofa staring at her intently. She grinned.

“My couch has never looked sexier,” she quipped.

Hawk’s thick lips curled just a bit, but he said nothing, nor did he adjust his position even an inch. Rita adjusted her glasses once more, started pacing back and forth near the fireplace as she continued to read.

“The Green Commandos are a legitimately registered 5013c nonprofit in the commonwealth with a stated goal of environmental protection and activism. Founded eight years ago in Worchester but moved to Boston three years ago. The founder is a man by the name of Iverson, Peter. They’ve made a bit of a name for themselves in the activism world, boast a current membership of six hundred, and several of their members have been arrested during protests here in and in other states. Nothing violent, just trespassing or refusing to disburse. As for the two people Sapp says Spenser talked to who might have been lying to him, Jan Stewart and Mario Santiago. They’ve both been arrested on misdemeanors, here in Boston and a couple of other places, all protest related. Nothing criminal in their backgrounds, nothing that apparently ties them to West Virginia.”

She stopped and turned to Hawk again, the folder clasped over her breasts as she took off her glasses.

“And Spenser didn’t give any indication as to why he thought they were lying to him?”

“Not as far as Sapp knew, but you know Spenser. He keep things close to his chest when he working things out. I checked in with some of our mutual associates after I talked with you today, found out that he used Vinnie Morris to help him watch Santiago and Stewart a couple times before he left. I was in Europe that week, remember?”

Rita nodded.

“I remember, that and the fact that you still won’t tell me what you were doing or where specifically you were.” She affected a pout, which quickly became a very sexy grin. “For all I know you could have been visiting your sexy redheaded lawyer in the UK.”

“They call them barristers over there,” Hawk told her. “And one redhead on this side of the pond is about all this tired old body can take these days.”

Rita snickered, walking over and setting her glasses and the folder down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, then she walked around and sat down beside Hawk, her hand going to is bare thigh.

“Tired and old my butt,” she said.

“There you go talking about your butt again,” he said.

“Well don’t you think it’s worth talking about?” she said.

“And a whole lot more, missy,” he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him. “But first I want to hear the rest about these people you looked into. Any more on Santiago and Stewart, and then the others from that group down in Atlanta, Earthforce Lifeforce. Once you done with that, then I’d like to discuss your butt, _in- depth_ and _at length_.”

Rita purred like a kitten and snuggled up next to Hawk. She kissed his left peck, then his right, ended with his lips and was straddling his lap when she finished.

It took a bit of effort, but she is still rather flexible in her middle years, and Rita managed to retrieve the folder and her glasses from the coffee table without leaving Hawk’s lap.

She grinned down at him as she opened the folder against his heavily muscled ebony chest.

“And that’s why I do all those aerobics,” she teased, squeezing her thighs around him.

Hawk put one hand in the middle of her back, the other on her thigh.

“One mystery solved,” he drawled in a crisp British accent. “Now, Watson, what say we make it two?”

Rita felt a sudden intense pressure against her groin, and this made her smile, and it also made her want to get finished reading the contents of the folder as quickly as she could.

So she did.

#  _Chapter 4_

Vinnie Morris is short and small but he can shoot the eyes out of a gnat at fifty yards with any handgun and is probably the fastest draw in the city of Boston. He’s in the same line as Hawk, private security and enforcement. For a lot of years he was with one of the city’s top mobsters from the old school, Joe Broz. When Broz got too old and turned the business over to his son Gerry, as useless a waste of skin as there ever was, Vinnie parted ways with the family and went with Gino Fish, another of Boston’s crime legends. They had a good thing going for a while, but Gino got old and sloppy, too, and Vinnie decided that maybe he’d be better off on the freelance side of things at that point, the same as Hawk. Always available for the right price. Just like Hawk.

After leaving Rita’s the next morning, Hawk went straight to the Harbor Health Club on the waterfront and was there just after Henry Cimoli opened up at five-thirty. He changed into workout clothes and hit all the machines in the main area before it became too populated, then he went down the hall to the small room that Henry kept largely for him and Spenser, a tribute to their past, and his, as prize fighters. Vinnie found him still there just after seven a.m. pounding the heavy bag, pounding the speed bag, and doing sets with the jump rope between each bag, and showing no outward signs of exertion save for the sheen of sweat on his cleanly shaved head.

“Man could have a heart attack just watching you work out,” Hawk,” the diminutive shooter said from the doorway as he sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup and held a powdered donut in his other hand.

Hawk finished his set with the jump rope before responding, standing calmly in the center of the room and taking slow, easy breaths.

“Morning, Vinnie,” he said.

“Morning, Hawk,” Vinnie said.

“Let me shower and then we can talk. I buy you a real breakfast.”

Vinnie nodded, drank more coffee, munched on his donut.

Hawk was ready in thirty minutes, dressed in black jeans, a blue turtleneck, calfskin cowboy boots, and a heavy black jacket. They took Hawk’s car and went three blocks to a diner that served what was called the _traditional American breakfast_. Hawk ordered that, Vinnie asked for coffee and a Spam and cheese sandwich on whole wheat toast. Hawk stared at the other man for some time after that, then shook his head and pulled a notepad from his pocket.

“Spenser had you helping him out a couple weeks back, following these two around. Mario Santiago and Jan Stewart.”

“Spenser really missing?” Vinnie said.

Hawk did not respond, simply sat and stared at Vinnie. After a few seconds Vinnie nodded as the waitress returned and poured hot coffee for both of them.

“Yeah, Spenser hired me to help him follow those two. Not much to it, just watch and see where they go.”

“Anything come of it?” Hawk said, ignoring his coffee as Vinnie added sugar to his, a lot of sugar.

“Not as far as I see. When I was on them they went to work, they went out with friends after work, they went home. Couple times they were together after work, but with other people. Don’t think they a thing, though. Fact, I think the broad’s a dyke, seemed to be hanging on this other _dykey_ looking chick when they out after work.”

“Vinnie,” Hawk says patiently. “In this century we call them women, and women who like other women, we call them lesbians.”

Vinnie stared at Hawk for a few moments before picking up his coffee and testing it, satisfied, he had more.

“You been spending too much time around Spenser, Hawk. Starting to sound just as white as he does. Anyway, I didn’t see anything odd when Spenser had me following them. He said the Santiago dude gave him a weird vibe so he wanted to push him a little, so we let him know he was being followed. He got in Spenser’s face one time about it but you could tell the guy is all talk. I was watching. He’s tall, but skinny, probably never threw a punch in his life, not even on the schoolyard playground. Had sense enough to know Spenser’d flatten him without breaking a sweat. Anyway, I had other work come up, better paying work, so I had to beg off for a while. When I take care of this other job, I call Spenser and ask he still need help. He tell me no, that he got a lead somewhere down in West Virginia and was going out of town for a few days. That’s the last I hear from him.”

The waitress brought their food, asked if they needed anything else. Vinnie smiled at her, she smiled back, and then she left them. Hawk sat staring at nothing for a long time while Vinnie tucked into his food. After maybe five minutes, Hawk glanced down at his plate, picked up his silverware.

“You busy right now, Vinnie?” Hawk asked.

“Not for a few days,” Vinnie said around a mouthful of spam and cheese.

“Good,” Hawk said. “Because you gonna help me out looking for Spenser in the meantime.”

Vinnie stared back at Hawk for a few seconds, drank some more coffee.

“Okay, and what exactly are we going to be doing to look for Spenser?”

Hawk chewed slowly, looking at nothing once again, then his cold gaze shifted to Vinnie Morris.

“Following a couple people around,” he said simply. “And then maybe having a conversation or two with them when they all by they lonesome.”

#  _Chapter 5_

The Green Commandos had an office in City Point off East Broadway. It wasn’t the best of neighborhoods, but when you were in the _saving the planet_ business, money was probably a little tight. Judging by their tiny office, they pinched pennies until they howled.

Vinnie and Hawk sat in Hawk’s car parked half a block down the street and watched the place while Vinnie again gave him the rundown on what he had done for Spenser. The story had not changed since the first time he told it, not that Hawk thought it would, but he wanted to hear all the details again, no matter how small.

“I was only on this a few days, Hawk, and like I said, I didn’t see nothing strange that said they was bad people. Nothing that looked like they might be involved in disappearing some rich kid from Georgia. But like I said, Spenser thought Santiago was holding something back, and he pushed him some, right before I had to beg off. I suppose while I was gone he got the guy to tell him somethin’. You know how persuasive Spenser can be when he wants to.”

Hawk grunted, eyes still focused on the building halfway down the block.

“Yeah, ole’ Spenser know how to loosen a tongue he have to. He didn’t say anything about the woman, Stewart?”

Vinnie shook his head.

“Not that he thought she was lying or nothing like that. Did say she seemed nervous, but he said that could have been because his _animal magnetism_ was getting to her.”

Hawk turned his head to look at the other man in the front seat of his car.

“You did say you thought she was a dyke?” he said.

“Thought you said that was a bad word nowadays?” Vinnie said.

“It is,” Hawk said, turning back to look down the street once more. “And I is a _bad guy_.”

Vinnie snorted, shook his head.

“Yeah, she into girls, I think, and sometimes Spenser thinks too much of his _magnetism_. Could be she was afraid because he was a big white guy with a nose been broke half a dozen times and he’s got big hands with a lot of scar tissue on them.”

“Could be,” Hawk said. “Could be something else, likely not his animal magnetism, though.”

They sat in silence for another ten minutes, then Hawk sighed.

“Gonna need to talk to Santiago soon,” he said thoughtfully. “Be good to do it when he ain’t around nobody else. He got a girl you know of?”

“Didn’t see him with nobody but people from work when I was on him,” Vinnie said. “Could be hooking up with one of the broads he work with. Few of them got nice butts. One chick in there, Hawk, you should see the tits on her.”

Vinnie laughed, Hawk did not.

“I want you to stay here for the rest of the day,” Hawk said. “When Santiago leaves, follow him wherever he go. Call and let me know. When he head home, call me. I go check out his place, see what I can see, and maybe be waiting with dinner for him when he get home tonight.”

Vinnie glanced at Hawk for a moment, nodded.

“Didn’t know you was handy in the kitchen, Hawk,” he said.

Hawk turned and smiled for the first time since leaving Rita’s that morning.

“Betty Crocker and Martha Stewart ain’t got shit on me, Vinnie,” he said, and then the smile went away as if it were never there. Hawk continued to sit and watch the building down the street. Vinnie climbed out and made his way four cars back to his own vehicle and got in on the driver’s side.

Three minutes later, Hawk pulled out and drove past the headquarters of _The Green Commandos_. He did not look in that direction but his peripheral vision took in everything there and the surrounding street. At the intersection he turned right, and at that moment, his phone started to pulse against his chest. He reached inside his jacket and took it out, glancing at the display before stopping at a light at the next intersection.

The caller was Martin Quirk.

He had news.

#  _Chapter 6_

Quirk, being the commander of the Homicide Division of the Boston Metropolitan Police Department, works out of Headquarters, which is located at 1 Schroeder Plaza in Roxbury Crossing. Hawk got there fifteen minutes after hanging up with the captain, but had to wait down in the lobby until Lee Farrell came down to sign him in and escort him up to Homicide Central.

Quirk was behind his desk immaculately attired, as always, even the nails on his large fingered hands were neatly manicured, and he wore the same world-weary expression that Hawk had seen on his face ever since he had known him, decades now.

Belson was there, too, less immaculately dressed, sporting his ever-present five-o’clock shadow, even though it wasn’t even noon. He was leaning against a file cabinet behind and to Quirk’s left. When Farrell came in he moved to the opposite side and held up the wall there. Quirk did not ask Hawk to sit and this did not bother him. Quirk and Hawk were not friends, they were not colleagues, and in all honesty, they didn’t really like one another. But they did respect each other, knew what the other was capable of, and also knew that if the other gave their word, nothing would ever make them break it. Like the other men in the office. Like Spenser, too.

“Healy put me on to a detective in the State Major Crimes Unit down in Charleston,” Quirk began without preamble. “Name’s Monica Fernandez. She and some of Healy’s guys have worked a few cross jurisdictional extraditions and other investigations in the past, says she’s good police. Anyway, I talked with her and asked her to follow up on what the local cops had done and she put some of her people out canvassing, that’s how they found the car, Spenser’s rental. He got it at Yeager Airport when he arrived a little over two weeks ago, Avis. New model black Ford Explorer, billed to his business credit card. Parked outside the Rustic Motel in St. Albans, about five miles west of Charleston. Nobody at the motel admits to seeing or talking to anybody that matches Spenser’s description, and when the locals were asked, they swear the Explorer wasn’t there when they checked earlier after getting the alert to be on the look out. Fernandez says she believes them.

“Nothing in the vehicle to suggest foul play, blood, shell casings, stuff like that. Or a dead body in the trunk. Had half a tank of gas. According to Avis there was a GPS unit mounted on the dash, but it gone now.”

“So somebody dumped the truck more than a week after Spenser went silent and after the State cops started asking more questions?” Hawk said.

Quirk nodded.

“That seem strange to you, Captain?” he said.

Again, Quirk nodded.

Hawk glanced around at the other two cops before bringing his focus back to the man in charge.

“What you think it means, Captain?” he said.

Quirk leaned back in his chair and stared at Boston’s top hardman for a long time, then he exhaled the breath he had been holding.

“Frank, what you think?” he said.

Belson shifted, looking at Hawk.

“I think, Marty, somebody’s got a hook or two in local law enforcement. Likely city cops. When the Staties got involved, word got to somebody and they got scared, decided to put Spenser’s rental somewhere it would be found, maybe make people think he left it there. Kind of dumb if you ask me, but it is West Virginia.”

Farrell grinned, Quirk inclined his head that way.

“And you, Detective?” said the captain.

“I think Frank’s probably right, there is somebody with a badge down there playing on the wrong side of the street. Probably how Spenser got outmaneuvered.”

All eyes were now back on Hawk, and he simply stared back, impassive.

Finally Quirk cleared his throat and broke the silence.

“There’s only so much I can do on this thing, Hawk,” he said quietly, but his words were quite clear. “If he went missing in Boston I could put men on the street, brace a lot of bad guys, call in Healy’s people, get the FBI involved. But this is way out of my jurisdiction. This Fernandez seems like a straight shooter, but she’s got other cases on her desk, too, plus who knows what kind of politics she facing from up the ladder. I don’t know what trouble Spenser’s got himself into down there, but whatever it is started up here. Maybe we can help with that, but as far as out of state…”

He left it hanging and the two men stared at one another for a long time. Hawk then nodded.

“I got somebody I need to go make dinner for, Captain,” Hawk said quietly, the smallest hint of a smile at the corners of his lips. “Might know something after that, if I do, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, if you would, stay on the cops down in West V, anything they develop, I want to know about it.”

Quirk nodded.

“I can do that. Anything else?”

Hawk shook his head.

“Not that I can think of right now,” he said.

Quirk nodded, glanced back at Belson.

“Well we won’t hold you, seeing as how you got to go make dinner and all.”

Belson chuckled.

“You taking lessons from Martha Stewart now, Hawk?” he said.

“Her and Betty Crocker, Sergeant Frankie,” Hawk smiled for just a brief instant, and then he was gone.”

Farrell walked around to the front of the desk and looked down at Quirk.

“You really think he’s talking about making dinner for somebody, Captain?”

“Lee, I’m sure none of us really want to know what Hawk’s going to be doing later on this evening, and in the meantime, we all have a lot of other work to do here that doesn’t involve West Virginia or everybody’s favorite annoying private cop. Frank, update me on the McCall case, please. Press Office tells me they’re still getting a lot of calls on that one.”

Belson stepped away from the file cabinet, already pulling out his notebook and flipping the pages. He was standing next to Farrell now, found what he was looking for, and began his report.

#  _Chapter 7_

Since he still had plenty of time before Mario Santiago was likely to leave work, Hawk decided to take a run up to Commonwealth Avenue and visit an office building off Hereford Street. He had never been to this building before; although the person he was coming to see was someone he had visited many times in the past in his former office location, and the one before that.

Eliot Ives was CIA, and what exactly he was doing in Boston had never been discussed, but whatever it was, apparently he did it well because after all these years he was still there doing it.

From time to time Hawk took on contract work for Ives, usually overseas in some very unfriendly environments, and usually for a lot of unaccounted for taxpayer dollars. The two men were not friends either, and for Hawk’s part, there was not a lot of respect for the other man, but they had had a prosperous working relationship for many years, and beneficial for both.

Despite not having an appointment or calling first, Ives greeted Boston’s number one enforcer with as much warmth as he was capable of, inviting the _Black Prince_ to come in and take a load off on one of the plush wing chairs before his black teak desk.

“You are looking as fit and deadly as ever, Black Prince,” Ives said as he sat back in his black leather executive chair, crossing his long legs. “Slay any dragons or rescue any damsels lately?”

Hawk’s look of annoyance probably would have had another man wetting himself right now, but not Ives. Hawk had to give him credit for one thing, the man did not scare easily, or at all. Then again, given the line of work he had been in for the past four decades, it was little wonder why.

“I got a problem,” Hawk said.

“And you’ve come to me for help?” Ives smiled. “Well, what are friends for, Black Prince?”

Hawk resisted the temptation to point out that they were not friends, ignored the statement altogether.

“Spenser is missing,” he said flatly.

“Oh my,” said the CIA man, his expression unchanged. “Not Young Lochinvar? Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Is foul play suspected?”

Hawk noted that there was just a tiny bit of amusement in the man’s tone that he really didn’t like, but again chose to ignore for the sake of expedience. He told Ives everything and the man listened intently, eyes never blinking. When Hawk finished, he sat for some time staring at nothing.

“It would appear that this time your friend might have finally bitten off more than he can chew,” Ives finally said, and Hawk noted that there was no trace of mirth in his tone. “A true pity if this is the case because as I recall, Spenser is nearly as effective in the covert arts as yourself, Hawk, although he has not been receptive to any of my offers since that time I assisted in clearing his name after you and he rescued his _fair maiden_.[vii] I take it she is beside herself with worry at the moment?”

Hawk did not respond, simply stared back at the man. After another few moments of consideration, Ives sighed and sat up, turning toward the desktop computer on his left. Despite his advancing years, the man knew his way around a keyboard, and after a few minutes of furious typing and staring at the screen that Hawk could not see from his position, Ives sat back and glanced at his guest.

“As his mobile number has not changed in ten years, and I just happen to have access to it, I queried a few databases to see if I could find when and where it was last used. You said his lady lost contact with him more than a week ago and kept calling his number, and eventually it started going straight to voicemail. Likely indicating that either the mailbox was full or the battery died or someone simply turned it off.”

“If it’s off, can you still track it?” Hawk said.

Ives smiled.

“You would be surprised at the things we can do these days, Black Prince. The Patriot Act was just the beginning. To answer your question, yes. Even if the battery were removed, the capability exists to allow us to continue to track it. However, if it has been destroyed, that does present a problem.”

“And what did all your queries turn up?” Hawk said, slightly impatient.

“There is no current location on his mobile,” Ives said thoughtfully. “The last time it was active was nine days ago. The approximate location was in the vicinity of Creel Avenue in Charleston, West Virginia. A residential neighborhood across the river from the Kanawha County Assessor’s Office.”

“Can you access his voicemails?” Hawk said.

Ives was silent.

Hawk was silent.

Ives glanced at his computer screen again, then back at Hawk, something sly behind his watery blue eyes and Hawk recognized it right away, sighed in deep annoyance.

“I on this till its over, Ives, nothing else.”

Ives nodded.

“Of course, Black Prince. Lochinvar’s safe return is, of course, your top priority. Or at least until you discover what happened to him and possibly recover his mortal remains for a proper burial. But when that is complete, whatever way it goes, there is a mission I have that you would be perfect for, and the compensation would be substantial, as usual.”

The two men sat staring at one another for nearly two minutes, neither blinking, and finally Hawk nodded once.

“When this is over, we talk,” he said.

“Excellent,” Ives said, leaning toward his computer once again. “Now let’s see what we have here regarding Spenser’s voicemail.”

#  _Chapter 8_

Unfortunately, Mario Santiago did not go home after work, and neither did anybody else from The Green Commandos that evening. They had a protest scheduled in East Boston near the Diamond and Gold Exchange on Chelsea. Vinnie had no idea what they were protesting but thought they were nuts for doing it in thirty degree weather.

The protest only lasted a couple of hours and a little after seven the group of maybe fifty in total, ten from the office and forty who showed up from somewhere else, all piled into vehicles and took off. Santiago and Stewart were in the same car, along with a couple of others. Vinnie followed them a few blocks south to Latinos Restaurant where they all got out and went inside and got a table near the front windows, quite convenient for anyone doing surveillance.

Hawk joined Vinnie in his car ten minutes after he called, already in the area. He brought coffee and donuts and the two men sat and drank and ate in silence while they watched Santiago and the others order drinks and food and apparently enjoy one another’s company.

“I don’t know how they make any money,” Vinnie said after a while. “All they do is hang around and annoy working people who ignore them. Can’t be any money in that, gotta be some kind of racket.”

Hawk said nothing, sipping his coffee. Vinnie shrugged after a while and did the same.

Two hours would go by before Santiago and company were ready to leave, and Hawk and Vinnie split up once more, following. Santiago had two stops to make that night, one in Charlestown to drop off Stewart, then down in Dudley Square to drop off the other two, before heading to his place in Dorchester Heights, a ramshackle brownstone that had seen better days, probably sometime around the American Revolution. Vinnie already knew this because he had followed Santiago before, and Hawk knew it because Vinnie had given him the location, and had spent a little time looking around the dinky little third floor apartment earlier in the evening before joining Vinnie outside the restaurant.

Santiago parked his car on the street, lucky to get the last remaining space just after eleven p.m. on a weeknight. He moved a little carefully as he got out and started up to the front door of the brownstone, as if he knew he had had too much to drink tonight and was worried about losing his balance.

Outside his apartment, key in hand, ticked off that the lights down his way had burned out again, it took Mario Santiago three tries to get the key in the lock, then he turned it in the knob. Just as he was about to enter his darkened apartment, a very large arm slipped around his neck and applied a few seconds of firm pressure.

That was the last thing Mr. Santiago remembered. At least until he woke up lying on his living room sofa ten minutes later, staring up at what he was sure was the _Angel of Death_.

Hawk smiled down at the man, tapping him on the chest, not gently either.

“Good, you awake, Mario,” Hawk said, still smiling. “Good, ‘cause you and me need to talk. And ‘fore you say somethin’ dumb and piss you me, let me show you this.”

Hawk was wearing tight black leather gloves and in the palm of his left hand was a gleaming black bladed knife, smooth on one side, serrated on the other. Hawk’s smile did not fade one bit as he displayed it for Santiago, however, the environmental activist’s bladder control went immediately.

“So, Mario, let’s you and me talk,” Hawk said, and then the smile evaporated, replaced by cold blackness as deep and dark as the void of space itself.

Probably deeper and darker.

#  _Chapter 9_

Susan had cancelled all of her appointments for Friday. Truthfully, she had been shunting her clients off to other therapists for more than a week now as her worry over Spenser’s disappearance began to deepen. She knew that some of her patients were upset about this and that it could slow their progress toward recovery, but she felt it was the right thing to do because her total focus could not be on her work right now. Unprofessional, she knew, but at the moment it was what she felt she had to do, and ultimately what was best for her patients, whether they agreed or not.

Hawk had called late last night and told her he was coming by about eight in the morning. Susan was anxious by this news, uncertain about what it meant, however, she knew that if it was truly bad news, Hawk would not have made her wait all night to receive it. She told him she would make breakfast, by which he knew she would have it delivered from a nearby deli in Cambridge that she regularly used for such things.

Hawk was on time, as usual, and Susan greeted him at the front door, Pearl the Wonder Dog at her side. Also, as usual, despite the stress of the current situation, Susan was elegant in her attire, hair and makeup perfect. She smiled up at Hawk as he stood there wearing a custom-tailored navy blue double-breasted suit with light blue shirt and solid red tie, a show hanky in his breast pocket that did not match the tie.

Hawk bent down and let the chocolate colored German short-hair lap the back of his hand for a minute, scratched her behind the ear, then stood back and looked at Susan. He reached out and touched her arm.

“I think I’ve got a lead,” he told her, and suddenly a weight was lifted from her heart. She fell against Hawk’s chest and he held her close, moving her inside and shutting the door, Pearl at their heels as they walked over to the sofa and sat.

“I talked to a guy last night,” Hawk said. “Guy Spenser talked to a few times before he left for West Virginia, guy Spenser thought was either lying or holding something back.”

Susan sat anxiously and listened as Hawk explained, without going into the _gory_ details, and when he finished, her analytical mind kicked in and she began to carefully consider everything he had told her.

“So that’s why Spenser went to Charleston?” she said after a few minutes. “Because of what this Mario Santiago man told him about Kyle Kerry, about what he learned and suspected?”

“So it would seem,” Hawk said quietly, his left hand absently stroking Pearl’s neck as she rested her chin on his knee. “According to Santiago, the kid was really upset by what he found out, disgusted even. He wasn’t sure, though, which is why when he called his boss back in Atlanta he told her he needed to check some things out before he would tell her more, only he didn’t tell her he was going to West Virginia to check them out. If he had, maybe Tedy Sapp would have called somebody down there to look for him instead of Spenser up here. Or maybe Spenser would have went there sooner. Either way, now I think I know why both of them went there, so I’m headed there next.”

Susan glanced up at him, a sudden apprehension in her dark eyes.

Hawk grinned.

“Don’t you worry about ole’ Hawk, Lady Susan. I have no intention of going missing.”

Susan forced a smile, leaned over and kissed his dark cheek, pressing her jaw against his for a long time. Hawk stroked her back, kissed her cheek in return.

“I’ll find him, Susan,” he said quietly.

Susan nodded, and then she broke down.

On the floor beside his left leg, Pearl began to whimper and Hawk stroked her neck again while Susan sobbed against his chest, making a mess of his five hundred dollar dress shirt.

Not that he minded one bit.

He had other shirts.

#  _Chapter 10_

Hawk called Quirk and told him he’d be headed for West Virginia later that night. Quirk didn’t ask too many questions, but did provide contact information for Detective Fernandez of the WV State Police. He also promised that he and the boys would check in and keep an eye on Susan, just in case. Then, almost as an afterthought, Quirk added the same for Rita. Hawk snorted at that then hung up.

His next call was to Vinnie Morris. Vinnie had other work coming up in the next few days but Hawk asked that he keep an eye on Susan as well, and be ready to _do his thing_ if necessary. Vinnie said he would and Hawk had no doubt of that. Mr. Morris was also a man of his word.

Rita was scheduled to oversee a deposition after lunch, but when Hawk called and asked her to cancel the rest of her workday and meet him at Hyatt Regency-Boston Harbor that afternoon at two, something in the tone of his voice told her that she should do as he requested. And to be honest, she didn’t need to supervise the deposition. She was a senior partner and head of criminal litigation, there were a number of highly qualified attorneys on her staff, including the one who was her second chair on this case. She would do fine without Rita.

The power suit today was maroon with a black blouse buttoned all the way up to her neck. The heels were high and the skirt was short, displaying her exquisitely developed legs. Rita grinned at Hawk when he opened the door to the top floor suite, still wearing the same suit as earlier, only with a different five hundred dollar shirt.

“That’s gonna be a thousand an hour, big fella, with a minimum of five hours work and half up front,” she teased.

Hawk smiled and extended a hand to her.

“Five hours we just be done with foreplay, _Lady DA_ ,” he teased, taking her hand and leading her inside. “Might just need to run an _open_ tab.”

Rita snickered as she stepped into the room, the door shutting behind her, her arms snaking around Hawk’s neck and her sleek body pressing into his.

“MAYBE WHEN YOU FIND HIM, YOU and Spenser ought to go into business together. From what you’ve told me about what you’ve been doing the past few days, Hawk, I’d say you’re one hell of a detective yourself.”

“Prefer the thug work, missy,” Hawk said as Rita lay with her head in the crook of his powerful left arm. “Simpler for a simple man like me.”

Rita snickered and snuggled up against his dark skin, enjoying the contrast of it next to her white skin. She kissed his chest.

“Nothing simple about you, lover, and you know it. I’ll admit that when we first met and I was still with the DA’s Office I didn’t think you were much more than a gun-for-hire that ought to be locked up. A sexy gun-for-hire that ought to be locked up, I should say. But since then, and especially over the past year, as I’ve gotten to know you a lot better, I’ve come to realize just how complicated a man you really are. Not to mention smart, and not just street smart. I know you read as much as Spenser does, and not dime store paperbacks either. And I don’t know how many languages you speak, but a lot more than me and half the people I know. And you’re tougher than Godzilla’s mother.”

Hawk laughed, squeezed her butt.

“You kind of tough, too, Ms. Fiore. Not to mention cute, ‘specially when you all naked and such. I cannot tell you what a pleasure it was to discover that you were, in fact, a _natural_ redhead.”

Rita laughed, slapped his chest lightly.

“Well you did conduct some very detailed and in-depth research on the subject, Mr. Hawk. In fact, if they handed out degrees for that kind of research, I’d say you’d be eligible for a Ph.D. right now. Of course, you actually have one of those already.”

Rita paused, waiting to see if he would laugh, when he didn’t she looked into his eyes, saw they were blank. Then a few seconds later she saw it and laughed herself.

“Only _pretty huge_ , huh?” he said.

Rita laughed harder.

“Okay, _really goddamn fucking huge_!”

They both laughed, snuggled closer in the middle of the luxury king-sized bed, kissed for a little while.

Following several minutes of silence, Rita sighed.

“I know you have to go down there and find out what happened to him, Hawk, and I really want you to. But please be careful yourself. As much as I don’t want anything to happen to that big Irish lug, I’d really hate for something to happen to you, too.”

Hawk didn’t say anything, just squeezed her against him again.

They lay like that for a long time afterwards, and then Rita raised her head, a wicked grin spreading across her face. Hawk shook his head, grinning.

“Woman you _is_ insatiable!” he declared.

“You got that right, bub,” she said, climbing on top and pressing her lips to his.

#  _Chapter 11_

Hawk left Boston just before midnight, a private charter out of Logan, arranged by Ives. Included in the back of the jet were two large duffel bags with items the _spook_ thought the _Black Prince_ might find useful.

The flight was direct and uneventful, landing at Yeager Airport in the West Virginia capital just after two-thirty Saturday morning. Hawk had made arrangements for a rental vehicle, a sleek black Escalade that was waiting outside Civil Aviation, all the paperwork already taken care of.

The duty ground attendant offered to help him with his bags but Hawk declined, passing the man a twenty anyway, then loaded the two duffels from Ives plus his own bag in back of the Escalade and climbed behind the wheel. Though the Caddy was equipped with GPS, Hawk still preferred actual maps, and to that end, had carefully studied a detailed one of Charleston and surrounding cities while on the plane. He left the airport just after three a.m. and drove the few miles down to Kanawha Boulevard East and headed west, his destination the Sheraton Four Points Hotel.

His reservation was guaranteed by credit card, meaning it would be held regardless of the time he checked in. The young black woman working as night auditor at the front desk smiled, obviously a little taken with the tall ebony god who stood before her in a custom tailored suit that perfectly fit his large and sexy frame. After signing his alias to the registry, Hawk rewarded the young woman with a genuine smile and thanked her, making sure to read her name off her tag and use it. And _Stacie_ felt all warm inside when he did.

Again, Hawk refused the offer of assistance from a bellman this time, also tipping him, but choosing to carry his own bags. Once he was in his room and made sure it was secure, Hawk sent three text messages, the last to Rita Fiore, in which he wondered if she would be searching out any other _PHD’_ s in his absence. When she woke up in a few hours and saw that, he could expect a creative response, Hawk was sure, and looked forward to it.

A quick hot shower followed, then bed. There was a lot of work to do but Hawk decided that he should rest first, not knowing when he might be able to do so again if things started moving quickly. Spenser had been missing for more than a week and a half now and could be dead for all he knew. If he was still alive and had stayed out of touch this long, he was most likely in trouble, and Spenser wasn’t an easy man to get the better of and keep contained, so the trouble was likely big.

Well that was okay, Hawk thought as he lay back in the darkness of his luxury room, _I’m a real big guy myself._

He slept undisturbed for five hours, waking just after nine. One hundred pushups, one hundred situps, some stretches, ten minutes of shadow boxing, and then another hot shower. Breakfast was delivered by room service and he sat at the table in his room and ate everything while scanning the local news stations, getting familiar with the city.

When he finished, he put the tray out in the hall, put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and then left his room. He was in the Escalade by 10:20 and leaving the hotel, his destination, Jefferson Road in South Charleston.

#  _Chapter 12_

Monica Fernandez just turned thirty-four a month ago and some days she feels ten years older, but she’s still in pretty good shape, still a head-turner with thick black hair that is always tied back when she’s at work, sometimes worn in a bun. She’s five-six, athletically built with dark green eyes, full lips, and slightly crooked teeth. And Hawk can also tell that her nose has been broken at least once, though this does nothing to distract from her attractiveness.

When he’s shown up to her cubicle on the second floor of State Police barracks on Jefferson Road, Detective Fernandez is wearing a tan button-down blouse and blue jeans, a black sports coat on a rack in the corner. On her left hip in a black paddle holster is a Glock 19 9mm semiautomatic pistol, a state police badge clipped on her belt in front of it, a double magazine holder on her right hip. Fernandez stands and dismisses the uniformed trooper on escort duty then extended her hand to Hawk, looking up at the impressive six-feet, three-inches of him, and yes, despite nine reasonably happy years of marriage, she was quite impressed.

She told him to come into her tiny workspace and take the only other chair there besides the one behind her desk. He did so, seemingly folding his long frame into the chair with little difficulty, looking as comfortable as if he were in a hot tub, and Fernandez had no idea why she was thinking about hot tubs at a time like this. Actually she did.

“Would you like some coffee or anything?” the detective said as she leaned forward on her desk and folded her hands together.

Hawk shook his head.

“Thank you, Detective, but I just finished breakfast. I’m good.”

Fernandez nodded, sitting quietly and staring at her visitor for a couple of minutes, an old cop trick, trying to put the other person off their game, unnerve them. It did not take her longer than thirty seconds to realize this would not be working with the man currently sitting in her office, but she still sat and stared for another ninety seconds just because; she liked looking at him, too. _Keep this up, Monica_ , she thought to herself, _and you might have to go over to Stan’s office and rape him for lunch_.

“So, Mr. Hawk,” she began after glancing away for a moment, seeing someone go by her cubicle. “I have spoken to two police captains from your neck of the woods in the past few days, State Detective Captain Healy, and Boston Homicide Captain Quirk. Both have a lot of things to say about you, not many of them good. Captain Quirk even went so far as to say that there have been times in the past where if he could have put you in cuffs he would have.”

Hawk cracked a smile.

“Marty is quite a kidder, isn’t he?”

“Well I don’t really know him, Mr. Hawk, but for some reason I don’t think the captain was kidding.”

“First off, you can drop the mister, just call me Hawk. And as for Quirk, he a good guy, a good cop, always follow the rules and the law. I respect the man and the job he do.”

Fernandez studied him for a few seconds, nodding.

“And somehow, despite what he said about the past, I get the feeling he respects you, too. Trusts you. Captain Healy, too. And they both say the guy who’s missing is just as big a pain in the butt as you are, but they’d like to make sure he was found, preferably alive, so any help I can offer, they’d appreciate it. Having to police captains, even out of state ones, owing you favors is never a bad thing. So, Hawk, what do you need?”

Hawk told her.

Fernandez asked questions.

She asked a lot more questions.

Hawk gave cryptic answers to most of these questions and the detective began to show a little frustration. She left the office for five minutes to get coffee, asking once again if Hawk wanted any, he again declined. Half of her cup was gone before she resumed where they had left off, and she didn’t feel any better about his answers.

Finally, Detective Fernandez sighed and sat back, her empty cup held against her stomach as she peered across the desk at Hawk, who sat calmly and coolly staring back at her with unblinking eyes.

“You know, Hawk, I’m beginning to understand better why Quirk didn’t give you his best ringing endorsement when he called. And being the Homicide commander probably means he’s had to deal with the aftermath of some of your business. This Spenser guy, too.”

Hawk said nothing and after a while Fernandez sighed, set her cup down on the desk a little too severely, turning toward her desktop computer.

“Okay, let me see what I’ve got on these folks,” she said. “And maybe how much trouble I’ll likely be in if you go off and fuck with them and it comes back on me.”

Again, Hawk continued to sit quietly and watch her, a slightly amused expression on his dark face.

Fernandez glanced over once while typing, felt a little warm when she realized that he was still watching her.

_Yeah, Stan,_ she thought, _it’s a good thing that at least your office has walls and a door that can be locked!_

#  _Chapter 13_

Creel Avenue is in a residential neighborhood, nothing but houses, houses that aren’t in the best of condition, like the neighborhood itself. There is a stink in the air, and not the regular chemical smell that Hawk has become accustomed to during his brief time in the city. Charleston is home to several chemical company operations, including two of the largest in the United States, DOW and Brown, the latter of which is headquartered nearby, and as a consequence, the entire city smells like leaking antifreeze, or worse, but here on Creel Avenue, there is something else. Something that Hawk cannot make out. Still, not the worst odor he has experienced in his life, especially while traveling in some of the more unpleasant areas of Africa, Asia, and the Middle East.

Hawk sits in the Escalade parked on the corner at the intersection of Standard Street and Creel an hour after leaving Detective Fernandez’s office in South Charleston. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, he wasn’t sure what Spenser had been looking for, assuming he had actually been here himself and not just somebody who had his phone.

On impulse, Hawk took out his phone and dialed Spenser’s number. Straight to voicemail. He disconnected and was about to put his phone away when a text message arrived. Reading it, Hawk smiled. Rita had taken her time to come up with an inappropriate response to his earlier text. He stared at it for several minutes, especially the attached picture, then sent back a one word response: _Nice!_

He decided to drive around the area and see what there was to see. Maybe Spenser had been here at some point, maybe he had been here right when he disappeared, maybe he had been here before that, the only thing that Hawk was certain of, at least according to Ives, was that this was the last location where Spenser’s phone was active before it stopped transmitting a signal.

There wasn’t much to the little neighborhood, three streets in this section, and Creel dead ended. This time of morning it appeared that most folks were at work, not many cars in the drives or on the street, nobody out and about either, and very little traffic. He parked again after ten minutes, this time down on Standard Street in front of a worn down blue house with a rusted Buick in the drive. He looked at the house number, he looked around the block. Nothing jumped out at him, figuratively or literally.

Hawk sighed. This is why he was not a detective and had to admire Spenser’s tenaciousness when it came to his profession. Hawk, on the other hand, was not as patient and would prefer action to sitting around and waiting for something to happen. Unfortunately, right now he had little choice.

He sat for another ten minutes then decided to move on to his next stop, the Quality Inn on Washington Street just a few blocks north of the Sheraton. It was where Spenser had stayed when he first came to town, and according to Fernandez, had not actually checked out, although there were no personal items left in the room when housekeeping came to check. Spenser always traveled light and could have easily taken his stuff with him if he didn’t know when he was going to come back. Or somebody else could have gone in and taken it after they made him disappear. Either way, Hawk had some questions for the people at the Quality Inn, despite assurances from the cops that they had already done this.

Hawk could be very persuasive when he wanted to be, and was not constrained by silly little things like laws and civil rights.

He put the Escalade in gear and pulled out, turning at the corner and increasing speed. At the next corner he paused longer than was necessary, appearing to check the GPS on the dash, but was in reality checking to make sure that the car that had been following him since he left South Charleston was still about a block behind. It was.

Good, he thought. Maybe later on he might set aside some time to have a nice chat with whoever was in the green Honda Accord, the license plate number already stored in Hawk’s memory.

Finally he took the turn, and about thirty seconds later, the Accord did the same.

#  _Chapter 14_

Hawk was in business attire and cut a striking figure with his gleaming shaved head. There were two young people working the front desk at the Quality Inn, the blond was male, the brunette, female. They both smiled when Hawk walked up to the desk and immediately he got the sense that there was some competition for his attention, as if they both saw him coming and all their _crush_ fantasies suddenly came to life. Good, thought Hawk, standing in the middle of both their positions, glancing at their nametags, addressing _Mandy_ first, then _Jason_ in a booming voice, an easy smile at the corners of his mouth.

“And how are you young people fairing this fine West Virginia morning?” he inquired.

“Well,” said Mandy.

“Just fine, sir,” said Jason. “How may _I_ be of assistance to you.”

Hawk looked at Mandy and winked, then turned to Jason.

“Why don’t you give me and Mandy a few minutes of privacy, Jason,” Hawk said, not as a question, and his smile dropped for just a moment. Apparently it was all Jason needed to take the hint.

Hawk turned back to Mandy, who was beaming from ear to ear, staring up at the striking black man now standing squarely in front of her, a mouthful of clean and even white teeth on full display.

“How may I help you, sir?” she said, barely able to contain herself.

Hawk leaned down on the counter, motioning her to come closer, lowering his voice. He told her what he was after and she nodded, still looking at him. Briefly she glanced at Jason, who had moved as far away from the counter as he could and still be behind the desk.   
Mandy nodded again, smiled again, then went to her computer and started to type.

A couple of maids who were on duty today remembered Spenser, both finding him quite adorable in an Anglo Saxon kind of way, one even going so far as to remark that she had let it be known that she was interested if he was. However, he gave no indication that he was. They didn’t see him around the hotel much during the day, and couldn’t say for sure when he left, only that one day when the room was checked, his stuff was gone, not that there had been much to begin with, an old blue gym bag and a small leather case for toiletries. A room service attendant on duty remembered him as well from the half dozen times Spenser ordered dinner late in the evening. Not the greatest tipper, but more than fifteen percent. He couldn’t help with when Spenser might have left either, although he did recall that one night when he brought up the food that there were two big guys getting on the elevator and one of them was having trouble walking without his buddy’s assistance. And the buddy had a bloody nose. When the attendant knocked on Spenser’s door, he noticed his left hand was wrapped in a hand towel, but didn’t think too much of it at the time.

Hawk found that last bit really interesting. Maybe Spenser had been annoying some people that day and they sent some folks to _annoy_ him. Sounded like a couple of leg-breakers, only Spenser got the better of them, which is usually the case when you send idiots after a pro. This gave Hawk some pause as he considered the possibility that perhaps after this someone had decided to send a _pro_ of their own.

Nobody else on duty recalled anything else, as they had told the police when they asked these same questions, and after a while Hawk began to sense that he was wearing out his welcome. At least with everyone except Mandy, whose number he had gotten and suggested they have lunch some time soon. She suggested dinner, maybe a movie, and Hawk simply gave her another winning smile, turned and left.

#  _Chapter 15_

Detective Fernandez called just as he was getting back into his rental outside the hotel. She had some information for him regarding the people he had asked about in her office earlier that morning. Hawk asked if he should come back to the barracks but she told him to instead meet her at the Bob Evans restaurant just down the block on Maccorkle Avenue SW and he could buy her lunch. Hawk asked if this could be construed as bribing a police officer and Fernandez laughed and said that she was easy but not that cheap. Hawk returned a chuckle and from the pause that ensued from her side of the conversation, he knew she had not meant to say that out loud. He let her off the hook, told her he’d meet her there in about a half hour.

According to the map he’d memorized, Hawk knew it wouldn’t take that long to get to the restaurant in question by the most direct of routes, even a few indirect ones, but he decided to take the extra time to give his pals in the green Honda a bit of a workout and find out if they were any good. This shouldn’t take long, as he really didn’t intend to lose them. After all, he still needed to have a _conversation_ with them later on.

Chuckling to himself, Hawk put the Escalade into gear and pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot, heading east, the direction opposite where he needed to go. About a minute later he spotted the Honda four cars back, the driver doing his best to stay out of his direct line of vision while staying close enough not to get lost. This told Hawk that the driver had some experience in tailing people, but he was too close which suggested a lack of confidence in his abilities.

At the next intersection the light was about to turn yellow, Hawk accelerated through it and wove his way around several other cars in front, narrowly avoiding removing the front end of one with his back bumper. He had one eye on his rearview mirror the whole time, saw the Honda driver panic and try to whip around the cars in front of him, flooring it through the intersection on a red light, and nearly getting T-boned by a minivan coming from the south. Brakes squealed, horns blared, and middle fingers were raised in angry protest.

Hawk nodded to himself as he slowed down and took a left at the next intersection.

“Amateur night,” he mused to himself, deciding to play nice for now, let them catch up to him and follow him to lunch. He had no idea who they were or why they were following him, but according to Spenser’s Rules of Detection, which he seemed rather fond of speaking of at length whenever he and Hawk were on a case together, _when someone gets nervous enough to start following you, it usually means somebody is worried you’re gonna find something out they would rather you didn’t!_ And right now Hawk would really like to know what they thought he knew. Also, he’d like to know if they knew where Spenser was.

In the meantime, however, he was content to have lunch with the cutest cop he had met thus far in the great state of West Virginia.

#  _Chapter 16_

Detective Fernandez was already inside and seated at a booth along the back wall of the restaurant. The lunch crowd at Bob Evans was always big, regardless of weather, and a lot of times regardless of the day of the week. Maybe more so on the weekend, like today. It was crowded and busy but everyone seemed to notice Hawk when he walked in. They didn’t get many like him in here, or anywhere for that matter, and not black guys, rather men of raw presence. Other men were jealous, many women were smitten, which made a lot of the men mad. Hawk noticed it all, but pretended not to, simply walked over to where Detective Fernandez sat and slid in across from her. Instantly she became the most hated woman in the restaurant.

A fresh faced kid came over and asked Hawk if he would like something to drink. He noticed the detective had iced tea and said he’d have one, too, unsweetened. The waiter smiled and said he’d be right back, telling Hawk that he could look over the menu as his companion was and orders would be taken upon his return.

“I hope you aren’t a vegan or anything,” Fernandez said with a grin, glancing up from her menu. “I know you East Coasters tend to be more health conscious and sensitive then us _southern folk_.”

Hawk smiled at her.

“I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, Detective,” he drawled like Carroll O’Conner from the TV show _In the Heat of the Night_. “You might have been here for a while, but I can still hear Southern California in your accent.”

Fernandez stared at him in amazement, not realizing for nearly a minute that her mouth was open.

“You’ve got a very good ear, Mr. Hawk,” she finally said, just as the waiter returned with his tea.

“Just Hawk,” Hawk told her, for the second time, nodded at the waiter. “I’ll have the chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and sweet corn on the side.”

“Very good, sir,” the waiter said, turning to Fernandez. She smiled at him, glanced at Hawk.

“I’ll have the Caesar Salad with wheat biscuits on the side.”

“Very good, ma’am,” the waiter said, making notes on his pad. He left saying he would bring their food as soon as it was ready.

“At least tell me that salad comes fried in bacon fat?” he said.

She grinned again, showing a mouth full of even white teeth that must have cost a fortune to maintain. Never on a cop’s salary. Husband must be doing well, especially judging by the size of the rock on her left hand. Either that or she was on the take and kind of stupid about flashing it around.

“I admit it, some of my California roots still show. I’ve only been here eight years. Followed my husband out here because he had a better job opportunity. I wasn’t really thrilled about the move at the time, coming from Orange County to here. I was a cop back there with the Sheriff’s Office, on a quick track to make detective, then Stan tells me about the job out here. We’d been married for only a year then and I loved the guy—still do—but seriously thought about dumping or strangling him at the time. Probably both. But things worked out in the end. My captain back there is originally from here, worked with the state troopers. One of his friends is high up in the chain of command and was able to help me with a lateral transfer. Still had to work in Patrol for another eighteen months, but then a detective slot opened up and I was able to compete.”

“And now here you are with the Major Crimes Unit,” Hawk finished for her, his tea half gone. “Quite a lot accomplished for someone still so young.”

Fernandez smiled demurely, looking down at her empty tea glass.

Their food arrived and they took a few minutes to tuck in. Fernandez watched Hawk carefully, taking note that his every move was precise, no wasted motion, elegant in a very visceral way. Absently she found herself wondering if he made love the same way. Then she corrected herself, this man did not make love. He _fucked_! And likely very well, too.

_Monica you really need to quit_!

“So, Detective,” Hawk said as he finished a bit of his chicken fried steak. “Tell me what you have detected regarding the people I asked you about earlier.”

Fernandez nodded, finished chewing, took a sip of her refreshed iced tea, nodded again as she wiped her mouth on a napkin. She glanced down to her left and picked up a black leather portfolio from which she extracted two brown official looking file folders. She passed them to Hawk.

“I never showed these to you,” she said, looking directly into his smoldering dark eyes, the same eyes she would be looking into if they ever ended up in bed together. _Monica_! “If ever asked, I will lie my ass off.”

Hawk nodded, thinking what a shame that would be. Although she had been seated for their entire meeting earlier, when he left she had stood and walked him out of her cubicle. The black jeans she wore did her very proud, Monica Fernandez had a very nice ass.

They ate in silence for the rest of the meal as Hawk perused the files and committed the relevant details to memory. He had questions, of course, but waited until they were finished eating, paid the bill, then led her out to his rental. It was snowing again, and heavily, but with the engine running and the heat on medium, it was warm and cozy inside.

Fernandez noticed Hawk checking the rearview mirrors almost casually, but she thought she detected just a hint of something else behind his eyes before he sat back, took a deep breath, and turned to her and smiled.

“So, Monica Fernandez, Detective Second Class, tell me why the files you _didn’t_ show me in there were light by one. Specifically, Errol Varner Brown IV, Chief Executive Officer of Brown Industries, the second largest chemical company in the state of West Virginia, main headquarters just a few blocks from your barracks.

_Oh shit_! Fernandez thought, trying to maintain her composure under the withering gaze of the highly dangerous and obviously cunning man beside her.

After a while she said _fuck it_!

“Because, Hawk,” the detective said in an even voice. “Errol Brown is a very big supporter and backer of the current governor of West Virginia who happens to have the ability to fire my boss’ boss’ boss’ boss’ boss. And ultimately _me_. And to be honest, despite what you’ve told me about what you found out in Boston, I still can’t believe that somebody like Brown would be directly involved in anything like this. Disappearing a young environmental activist, and then the private detective sent to find him. Come on.”

Hawk said nothing, continued to stare to the point where the detective had to look away.

“Anybody talk to you?” he said finally.

She hesitated, then nodded, still not turning back.

“After I spoke to your Captain Quirk in Boston,” she said in a small voice. “I had to make some inquiries and dispatch some resources, so word got around what I was doing. Apparently my lieutenant got a call from someone above him who got a call from someone above them.”

Hawk waited some more before prodding.

“And?” he said.

“And my lieutenant suggested that I _tread carefully_ regarding any assistance I was preparing to provide to anybody from Boston.”

“Did Brown’s name come up?” Hawk said.

Hesitation, then a nod.

“Yes,” she said. “I was told that I should not include any information about Mr. Brown in anything I gave out. The fact that Brown Industries might be implicated could not be helped, but could be handled, but Mr. Brown should be kept out of it.”

Hawk nodded.

“I see,” he said, almost cheerily. “Anything else I should know about that you _aren’t_ gonna tell me, Detective?”

She glanced at him then, frowning.

“Like what?”

Hawk stared at her for several moments and this time she did not turn away, despite really wanting to. Finally Hawk made a judgment call.

“Sit still just like you are right now,” he told her. “Don’t glance around trying to see. “But ever since I left your office earlier today, somebody has been following me.”

Fernandez had to fight hard not to look, took several deep breaths.

“And you think I had something to do with that?” she demanded.

“Did you?” he said simply.

“Absolutely not!” she admonished. “I most certainly did not!”

And Hawk believed her.

“Hey, is that why you were checking the mirrors when you got in a little while ago?”

Hawk glanced at her again, impressed.

“Yeah,” he said. “They followed me here but peeled off when I turned in. Probably parked nearby, pick me up when I leave.”

“I can maybe help with that,” Fernandez suggested. “Got a vehicle description, maybe a tag?”

“Thank you, Detective,” Hawk said dismissively. “But I believe I can handle it from here. Thank you for your help, and the meal was lovely. Perhaps we can do it again some time at some place fancier.”

Fernandez stared at him for a long time as the silence grew and she knew he would not tell her any more, cop or not. She nodded, slipped her knit cap back on her head, then opened the door. She stood out in the snow for several moments staring back at him, then slammed the door and trudged off for her state SUV five spaces away.

Hawk watched her get in and pull off a minute later. He sat and thought for a while, considered the things he needed to do, places he had to visit. Unfortunately, with it being the weekend, he was unlikely to get what he needed from the businesses. Residences, on the other hand, were a different story. The clock was ticking for Spenser and time may have already run out. If it hadn’t then maybe Hawk had a chance to get to him before it was too late. If it had, then Hawk would get to those responsible, and for them it would be too late.

First, though, it was time to have a chat with the folks following him and find out why, and who had put them on to him.

He put the Caddy in gear and pulled out, headed back up Maccorkle in the opposite direction from the one he had come in.

#  _Chapter 17_

The weather showed no signs of improving but that was all right. The Escalade was winterized and having lived in Boston for most of his life, Hawk was no stranger to driving on snowy and icy roads. Apparently whoever was following him was skilled enough also, as they managed to keep up, but weren’t able to maintain as much distance, probably worried about losing him. They need not have been. He didn’t plan on going that far and never left Maccorkle Avenue for the entire less than three mile trip. However, as he drove at a moderate and careful rate of speed, he did violate state traffic laws by taking out his phone and making a call.

Since it was the weekend he had no idea where Tedy Sapp was. He was a high-powered executive now and probably didn’t schlep to the office on Saturday afternoons unless there was a crisis. He also had a husband and family now, and likely spent his weekends with them. And for this reason he made sure Hawk had both his work and personal mobile numbers. Hawk called the personal one and got the man himself after the second ring.

“Hawk?” said Sapp, a little breathless. “What’s going on? Don’t tell me you found Spenser already?”

Hawk stopped at a light before responding.

“I good and I fast, but not that good and fast,” he said. “Why you sound out of breath? Don’t tell me you still workin’ out seven days a week? Like you ain’t already got enough muscles for everybody in Georgia.”

Sapp chuckled.

“Been a while since you’ve seen me, Hawk. Hate to say it, but I’ve sort of let myself go a bit. Can only bench press about three hundred even now and can’t do more than eight miles before I have to take a break.”

Hawk chuckled and pulled off, checking his mirrors.

“Becoming a big sissy now, ain’t you?” said Hawk.

“Thought I was already a sissy?” said Sapp.

“No, you was just gay then, but now…”

Sapp chuckled again.

“Actually I was playing catch with twin five year olds, and let me tell you, that’s harder than a lot of people might think. They’ve got more energy than Georgia Power. Their other dad has work today, his weekend on. So I’m solo with the kiddies, and loving it. One of the perks that comes with my job is I can have all my weekends off if I want, and I usually do now. But anyway, you didn’t call to talk about my personal life. What’s up? You got anything yet?”

Hawk explained.

A few minutes later, after a thoughtful pause, Sapp asked for the tag and description of the vehicle that was following him.

“Okay, I can get you that info without having to involve the cops up there,” he said. “Since apparently somebody’s got their finger on that scale. Hey, Hawk, listen, man, this might be why Spenser got squeezed, too many compromised eyes. You might need somebody up there to watch your back if you can’t even trust this Fernandez woman to play it straight.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout ole Hawk, Tedy,” Hawk assured him. “I take care. I never been as trusting as Spenser. Those bruisers that paid him a visit had come my way, they’d got more than just _bruised_ for their trouble. But I appreciate any information you can get on my followers, as well as this Brown guy and his company. I got some stuff before I left Boston, but now it seems that this could be even more relevant. Why the kid came down here and then why Spenser followed after he talked to that Santiago guy.”

Sapp was quiet on the other end of the line but Hawk could hear him writing. When he finished he cleared his throat and said something to someone in the background, likely the twins, before coming back on the line.

“And so far you haven’t found any sign of Kerry either, huh?”

“Haven’t been on the job that long, Tedy, and to be honest, Spenser my priority. Figure if I find him we might find the kid together, assuming he haven’t met with _some unfortunate circumstances_.”

More silence, longer this time.

“Okay, Hawk. Play it how you have to. I’m worried about Spenser, and he’s in this because I hired him. If something bad has happened to him, it’ll be my fault.”

“Actually, Tedy,” Hawk said coldly. “It’ll be the fault of those who done the deed. And soon as I find them, that deed be done to them in return.”

They hung up a minute later, with Sapp promising to get back in touch just as soon as he had something. Hawk disconnected the call without saying goodbye, which was his standard.

Another quick check of the mirrors, then he turned right and into the parking lot of the Rustic Motel in St. Albans, the place where Spenser’s rental had been found by the West Virginia State Police. At least according to Detective Monica Fernandez, who Hawk now viewed as an unreliable source of information.

Despite how neat her ass looked in those black jeans.

#  _Chapter 18_

Hawk had about as much luck at the Rustic Motel as the State Police had purported to, and in their case the event had been fresher. However, despite his lack of official status, some employees were rather helpful when he inquired, likely due to the supplemental income he provided for them, which he thought he might expense back to Security South just for the hell of it.

It was six o’clock and dark when Hawk returned to his vehicle, parked around back where there was no official parking and the light wasn’t too good. He patted the pockets of his suit jacket, then pants, searching for his keys, and it was then that the two men from the green Honda finally decided to make their move. Hawk was glad, because now he wouldn’t have to do it for them.

Both white, both in their thirties, and neither of them had any real skills in following or fighting. Hawk didn’t know if these were the two guys who had come after Spenser at his motel that Sapp told him about, but he could see why if they were Spenser put them away with little trouble. The shorter and heavier one was a redhead, and he was carrying a metal flatbar. The taller and thinner one was blond and carrying a wooden baseball bat.

How original, thought Hawk as he stopped searching for his keys, which he never was doing in the first place. He turned and faced the men who had him _cornered_ , smiled amiably and spoke.

“Evenin’, gents,” he said in a down-homey tone that was incongruous with his appearance and ethnicity, at least in the opinion of the two men facing him. “Mighty fine weather we havin’ here, ain’t it?”

Both men stopped and glanced at one another. It was still snowing and the temperature was somewhere around twenty.

“Looks like we got ourselves a smartassed nigger, Jake,” chuckled the redhead.

The blond nodded.

“But low on the smarts,” Jake laughed as well, tapping the bat in the palm of his empty hand. Both men were now less than five feet from Hawk, well within the reach of his long arms and even longer legs with just minor shifts in his position. “’Cause a smart nigger would have know’d to keep his ass out of West V after dark.”

Red laughed, bringing the flatbar up and pointing it at Hawk.

“Well he gonna learn now, and maybe be smart and go back home ‘fore he _git_ worse than when he gon’ _git_ now.”

Red never did figure out how Hawk was able to disarm him without even appearing to move. One minute he was holding the flatbar straight out like he was getting ready to charge, the next thing he knew his hand was empty and his left wrist was on fire. But he didn’t have too long to ponder this because his left knee went next, followed by what felt like a mule kicking him in the kidneys and ribs. Then he was on the ground in tremendous pain.

Jake the bat holder stood agape and nearly pissing himself. He did manage to raise the bat when Hawk was two feet away, but there was no room for him to strike, and for some reason or other he never thought of stepping back to get more space, or to simply drop the bat and run like hell, as anybody with good sense would have done. But as the saying goes in the south, _the boy just wasn’t long on good sense_.

Hawk delivered a short uppercut into Jake’s breadbasket that doubled him over and he dropped instantly to his knees, still holding onto the useless bat. Hawk sank down on his haunches and stared into the pain-filled eyes of his would-be attacker number two, sighed, pushed him over onto his butt. Now he dropped the bat.

Hawk stood up and dusted off his jacket, glanced around casually, and that’s when his phone buzzed. Checking the display he saw that Tedy Sapp was calling him back. He answered, listened, then hung up again.

“Which one of you Melvin Price?” he said to the two men on the cold ground in the snow. “Don’t be shy, gentlemen, step right up and tell Uncle Hawk your name. You might just win a gigantic prize. Ain’t you crackers ever heard of _Black Santa Claus_?”

He chuckled to himself, saw someone step out of the back of the hotel and walk over to the dumpster. They were moving quickly, head down, never even bothered to glance his way. Bad weather tends to do that to people.

“So, Melvin, Melvin, come out, come out, whomever you are!”

No direct response, just moaning and whimpering.

Hawk sighed again, walked over to the redhead, kicked him in the side. A short-lived howl of pain escaped his lips. Short-lived because he recognized the distinctive sound of the racking of a handgun’s slide and quickly glanced up into the barrel of the largest semiautomatic pistol he had ever seen in his life.

A few seconds later Hawk was standing over the former bat wielder, now positively identified as Melvin Price, licensed private security officer in the state of West Virginia and currently employed on the staff at Brown Industries in at their Dunbar facility just down the road.

“Hey, Melvin,” Hawk said with a grin that would have scared the devil straight back to hell. “What say you and me have a little chat?”

It was not really a question, and Melvin Price was well aware of that fact as he was lifted off the ground and effortlessly carried to the black Escalade ten feet away.

#  _Chapter 19_

Melvin Price is thirty-one, but for some unknown reason, everybody calls him _Jake_. His friend the redhead is Arne Pager, thirty-two years of age. Both are employed as uniformed security guards at the Dunbar plant owned by Brown Industries, the second largest chemical company in the state of West Virginia, as Detective Fernandez had informed Hawk earlier. Not that he cared about that part one bit.

The three of them were now sitting in the Escalade, the snowstorm having increased significantly in the last five minutes. Hawk was behind the wheel, turned with his back against the driver’s door. Price sat in the front passenger’s seat, albeit uncomfortably because he was still suffering the aftereffects of Hawk’s fist to his gut. Pager was in back, leaning against the passenger’s door, holding his sides and moaning in low agony. Hawk ignored their discomfort, and the fact that both, especially Pager, would likely need to visit a doctor soon. It had been their choice to be assholes, now they got to live with the consequences, assuming they didn’t further piss Hawk off in the next few minutes.

“So, Mel, you was saying?”

Price gazed at Hawk timidly, out of the corner of his eye, first as the shadow of his dark face, then down at the outline of the Glock pistol in his right hand, pointing right at Mr. Price.

“I could lose my job for tellin’ you anything, Mister,” he whimpered. “Please!”

“Mel, don’t beg,” Hawk told him. “It ain’t manly. Plus it ain’t gonna do you no good here, just piss me off more. Believe me, Mel, neither you nor Arne want to seem me pissed off more.”

For extra emphasis, Hawk tapped Price’s knee with the barrel of the Glock in his hand and this made the other man jump.

“Okay, okay, man! Okay! You don’t have to do nothin’ like that. I tell you.”

“Jake, shut up!” Pager managed to croak from the backseat. “You say anything and we get fired, man.”

One moment Hawk was completely motionless, the next he was halfway in the Escalade’s backseat hitting Mr. Pager in the jaw with the barrel of his weapon. Then, before Arne could even begin to contemplate what had happened or the new pain that he was experiencing, Hawk was back in his position against the front driver’s door as if he had never moved.

Melvin Price was both astonished and horrified.

“It was our boss told us to follow you!” Price blurted. “Said to get over to the State Police barracks on Jefferson in South Charleston, gave us your description and the car you was driving. Told us to follow you when you left, see where you went, who you talked to, and sometime after it got dark, we should teach you a _little_ lesson. We wasn’t suppose to kill you or nothin’. Arne and I ain’t into that kind of shit. Just rough you up and scare you a little.”

Hawk chuckled.

“Just the two of you?” he said.

Price nodded quickly.

“Not sure, Mel, ole’ buddy, but I think one of us is being insulted. Likely me. Think I might have to talk to your boss about that. You two guys go and talk to a private cop out of Boston couple weeks back staying at the Quality Inn on Washington?”

“No, that wasn’t us!” Price denied quickly.

Hawk was watching him closely, nodded to himself.

“But you know ‘bout it, don’t you?” he said.

Hesitation.

Hawk made to lean forward and Price held up both his empty hands.

“All right, man! All right. Yeah, I know about it. Didn’t have nothin’ to do with it, though. I swear!”

“Did you hear what the private cop did to the guys went after him?” Hawk said.

Price nodded sheepishly.

“And you and your pal Arne back there still took the job to do the same to me? Or try to. Forget dumb niggers. You two boys are about the dumbest two honkies I ever come across. And believe me, I come across more than my share over the years.”

From the backseat, Arne Page moaned again just to let everyone know he was still there. Neither Hawk nor Price turned to look at him.

After several more very uncomfortable minutes of silence (for everyone who was not Hawk), the enforcer from Boston turned around to face the wheel, the Glock disappearing inside his jacket pocket.

“Take your piece of shit partner back there and get out of my ride, _Jake_ ,” Hawk said. “And don’t ever let me see you two following me again. Because next time I might not be as nice and hospitable.”

Even though the snow was falling heavily and inside the Escalade was comfortable and warm, Melvin Price wasted no time in following Hawk’s instructions because he wanted to get away from this terrifying man as quickly as he could. He reached for the door handle but froze when Hawk said _but one more thing before you go_ …

“Forgot to ask, who is your boss?”

Price didn’t hesitate to respond because his job was not as important as his life. And at the moment he really didn’t care if he had a job or not, least of all at Brown Industries.

Hawk watched the two men struggle through the snow, Price leading Pager so the more severely injured man would not fall. Once they were finally inside the Honda and the engine started, Hawk pulled out onto the main road and headed back down Maccorkle. He was going back to his hotel for the evening. The weather was bad and the territory was both unfamiliar and hostile. He needed to regroup and make some plans.

Still, so far he had made some progress. In town for less than a full day and he was already irritating somebody’s plans enough that they sent people after him. And it was also obvious that they had people in the State Police, maybe not Detective Fernandez directly, but somebody close to her, likely above her, perhaps even this lieutenant she mentioned earlier. He’d have to see about looking into that, and some other things.

He did have a name, too, and one that he already knew. At least now he had some confirmation, along with confirmation of the involvement Brown Industries in this thing, whatever it was.

Price and Pager worked as guards for Brown Industries when they weren’t doing side jobs, which weren’t really all that _side_ considering that they were being paid bonuses through their company for the gig and the only person who could authorize that was the head of the Security Department himself, Mr. Donovan Gates, Vice President and Director.

Hawk was humming the melody to an old Genesis song that he liked called _Just a Job I do_.

_I got a name, I got a number, I’ve got a line on you. I got your name, I got your number, I’m coming after you!_

“And bang, bang, bang, and down you’ll go…”

#  _Chapter 20_

Hawk spoke to Susan for a half hour when he got back to his room at the Sheraton, told her he was making progress because somebody was already following him. This seemed to cheer her up because she, too, was well familiar with _Spenser’s Sleuthing Rules_ and understood the implications of somebody following Hawk around. He was vague on pretty much everything else, but promised to talk to her twice a day, or more if he had something.

“And don’t worry, Suze, pretty soon Spenser be back and annoying the hell out of you so much you probably tell him to go spend some more time down here?”

Susan laughed, not a great laugh, but something, told him that she really hoped this would be the case. He told her he was sure of it and then told her she should try her best to do something else tonight other than worry about the dumb Irish lug. She said she’d try but they both knew she was lying.

His next call was to Rita Fiore.

“I’m up here all alone on a cold Saturday night with no one to warm me up,” she teased as she answered her mobile phone, already knowing who was calling. “Of course, I probably could put some clothes on to help with that instead of sprawling on the love seat in my living room in my birthday suit and talking to you.”

Hawk chuckled.

“Where your other hand?” he said.

“Huh?” she said.

“Where your other hand?” he repeated. “Only take one to hold the phone.”

Then she got it, laughed fully.

“Wouldn’t you like to know that, Mister,” she teased.

“Yeah,” he said. “I would.”

“Well if you were here right now you could see for yourself,” she said. “And maybe then I wouldn’t have to use my own hand.”

They both laughed, and then Rita asked how the search was going, all playfulness evaporating from her tone. Hawk told her everything he had told Susan, and everything he had left out. She listened without interrupting until he finished.

“Sounds like whoever is behind this had a lot of clout, Hawk. Got hooks into the cops, too. Maybe that’s how they got the drop on Spenser.”

“Be my guess,” he said.

“Well then you need to be extra careful, Hawk. After all, you’re not in great and enlightened New England right now. I don’t know if anyone has broken the news to you before now, but you are a black man, and in some parts of this country still that isn’t a good thing.”

“Wait, I black?” he drawled with impressive incredulity. “You mean that why they wouldn’t let me into Harvard?”

“Of course,” Rita deadpanned. “And it’s why when you come over, I only let you in my _backdoor_.”

This time Hawk actually broke first and then they were both laughing.

“But seriously, Hawk, I know you’re tough and mean and unstoppable and beautiful as a bug’s ear, but…”

“I am being careful, girl,” he told her quietly. “And ‘less you keep forgettin’, I ain’t Spenser. I don’t worry ‘bout things like he do. Don’t have his rules for everything. Means I don’t hesitate. Not when dealing with people trying to kill me, not in anything. The number of times I done ripped your panties off ought to tell you that by now.”

Rita choked with sexy laughter.

“And you’ve spent a fortune on underwear for me this last year because of it,” she said. “I suppose I could save you some money by simply not wearing any, but what would be the fun in that?”

“None at all,” Hawk said.

Rita agreed.

They talked for another hour and then said goodbye.

Hawk planned on getting an early start in the morning, weather permitting. It was still the weekend but that might be an advantage. And who knew, tomorrow he might just grow another tail and he could have some fun beating them up, too.

#  _Chapter 21_

Sunday was not a good day for sleuthing, snow fell all during the night and the advisories reported many road closures, authorities asking that if people did not have to get out on the roads then they should not.

Hawk spent three hours in the hotel gym working up a sweat and punishing his muscles until they were ready to give out. To his delight there was a steam room and he spent a half hour there before going up to his room and showering. He ordered lunch from room service and ate while flipping through the television’s numerous sports channels, finally finding a game that interested him and settling down to watch.

At four-thirty, standing at the window watching the snow still falling, another ballgame playing on the TV in the background, Hawk’s mobile phone rang. He was a little surprised by the identification of the caller.

“I didn’t think we did social calls, Captain,” he said with an ironic tone of voice.

“Not social,” said Quirk. “Professional. I came by the office after church and lunch with the family to catch up on some paperwork. Lee Farrell is on weekend duty right now and he caught a case. Early morning homicide in the South End. Thirty-five year old Hispanic male identified as Mario Santiago, a grocery store shift manager and organizer for a group called _The Green Commandos_.”

Shit, thought Hawk.

“How he buy it?”

“Two to the back of the head, close range, what some in the press sometimes refer to as _execution style_.”

“South End, huh?” Hawk mused. “He lived in Dorchester Heights.”

“I know that, Hawk,” Quirk said. “Be kind of curious as to how you know that but I’ll leave it for now. Reason I’m calling is because I know this group is linked to the Spenser thing. I know Spenser talked to Santiago before he took off for West Virginia and I’m pretty sure you did, too. Reasonably sure he was still alive after you talked to him.”

“Reasonably sure, Captain?” Hawk grinned.

“Maybe hopefully sure might be more accurate,” Quirk said. “Your reputation would never be confused with Mother Teresa’s Hawk.”

Another chuckle.

“Yeah. She tougher than me. And dead. Farrell got any leads on the killing?”

“Not so far. Nobody heard or saw anything, or anything they’re willing to tell the cops. Autopsy won’t be till tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. Farrell’s still canvassing the neighborhood, talking to people, looking for clues, all the normal detective things. He was found in a vacant lot next to an old flophouse that’s gone to pot. None of the current residents are what you might consider upstanding citizens. Most are drunks or druggies, and you know they don’t talk to cops.”

“Santiago have any kin?”

“Not locally,” Quirk said. “He’s originally from Texas. Why the hell he’d rather live up here in the winter time is anybody’s guess. Farrell’s gonna talk to friends and coworkers at the store where he worked, and he’s gonna go see the folks at _The Green Commandos_ , see if they know anything.”

“Woman named Jan Stewart is an organizer with them, too,” Hawk said. “The other person the kid from Georgia met with before he disappeared. Spenser talked to her, too, but apparently he didn’t think she was hiding anything, unlike late friend Mario there.”

“Might be why he’s dead and she’s not,” Quirk said. “At least as far as I know right now. I’ll pass it along to Lee. Frank will be back on duty tomorrow and he’ll probably pitch in. Anything else I should know, Hawk? Anybody else you talked to before you left that maybe I might want to keep an eye on?”

Hawk thought a minute, then sighed before responding.

“I’d keep an eye on that commando group, Captain. Everything up there seem to tie to the kid disappearing and then Spenser followin’ down here and going up in smoke, too.”

“You making any progress on your end down there?” Quirk asked.

Hawk told him about the two guys who had been following him, and their employer.”

“Well that does sound like a promising lead,” said the Boston cop. “The kid’s an environmental activist, they’re a chemical company, natural enemies, and he went missing in their backyard. Plus when Spenser started nosing around there, some hard guys tried to scare him off, dumb motherfuckers, but then he disappears to. And when you go down to find him, you get somebody on you almost right away. I agree with you that somebody in the State Police is likely involved somehow, at least passing information to people outside the department. I was kind of hoping that Fernandez woman would be of help, but if she’s reporting to somebody else with other intentions, it might be a good idea just to cut her out of the loop altogether.”

“Sound advice, Captain,” Hawk said.

“Yeah, but something in your voice tells me that you might have other plans. You’re your own man, Hawk, always have been. Like Spenser. Just make sure you don’t end up going missing like him.” Quirk paused and chuckled. “Although with the two of you gone, maybe my homicide stats would start improving.”

Hawk chuckled.

“Always hope, Captain,” he said.

“Give me that security guy’s name again,” Quirk said. “I’ll see what I can dig up while I’m still at the office.”

Hawk did and then Quirk hung up.

He glanced over at the TV, all interest in whatever teams were playing long gone. Outside the snow was still falling heavily. Hawk sighed, stood up to get his coat.

Not even bad weather could clip the wings of _The Hawk_!

to be continued...

[a] From the Off-Book, Derrick Olin, The Lost Years set.

[b] From the Off-Book, Derrick Olin, The Lost Years set.

[c] Writing as Leo Croix.

[d] Writing as Leo Croix.

[v] See _Hugger Mugger_ by Robert B. Parker.

[vi] See _Potshot_ by Robert B. Parker.

[vii] See _A Catskill Eagle_ by Robert B. Parker.


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